We are all sharing a collective cauldron of reversal. Enlightenment of the collective to the timelessness of the feminine. I have been pointing to it, with so many demands, as yours alone… which is in a paradoxical sense true. For me, you remain a most creative window to it. I finally am clear though that everything (so difficult) happening with “just us” is a window so I am able to make sense within its massiveness and re-integrative dynamics, to create what is required of me. And like it or not, this (being a window to it, exactly as you are) is a job your soul asked for. Everyone I meet right now, even just in passing, has this very surreal feel. Especially the men. They all ask with their gaze, plead almost, in their own way, “What is going on?” Or is that me? Nix kitty died in the days before the lunar eclipse, and my birthday. I found her car-scarred body. Her tongue sticking out, an expression of shock, suspended in time. I knew it was my secret to keep. I would manage the loss and spare the children theirs. Secret ceremony. Loud voice, spontaneous sound, unapologetic of letting go of loss. Received by the collective? Placed her body in a tree stump, the one where Emma played “Warriors” as a child. Covered with dirt, which the rain made mud. She is consumed now, in the non-ordinary, the lower realm that called. Sacrifice.
ma-McGee
NOV 14, 2022